Future steps
They sit on a shelf, comfortable in pairs
A collection of beige and brown, red and gold
No longer loved, no longer worn
They are shoes that have not really lived yet
Their soles barely scratched and scraped
They dream of life, of adventure
And whisper to one another
The scant stories they have to share
Those that sparkle, glitter and sequins
Speak of a party, with dancing, just one night
And of a bride who cooed over them, but never wore them
The plain beige, dull and boring
Tell of a house, hushed in tone, death in the air
Brought for comfort that never came
They are shoes for rainy days and communty hall dinners
They dream not of glamour, but of everyday pleasures
A walk to the shop, visits with grandchildren
Second hand shoes, unloved, unwanted
They sit alone on the shelf, in their pairs
Waiting to be part of a story
Silently calling,
Buy me, wear me, love me.
